


The Flow of Causality

by Dark_Jonerys



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chosen One, Clues, Fix-It, Fuck David & Dan, Not My Game of Thrones, PTSD, Prophecy, Targaryen Restoration, Targlings (ASoIaF), The Prince That Was Promised, baby implication, hints - Freeform, major character death but not really, subtlety, wraiths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 12:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18717250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Jonerys/pseuds/Dark_Jonerys
Summary: The Night King continues to plague Jon's dreams, even after his "death". He meets a familiar face in the Godswood, a face that will do everything to protect the balance of the world.





	The Flow of Causality

**Author's Note:**

> My response to the buildup to episode 4 and against those nasty leaks I've read all week.
> 
> Please, give us Jonerys fluff.
> 
> EDIT 5/7/2019:
> 
> So, I posted this around 6 am on the day the episode was supposed to air. Literally 2 hours into my sleep, I'm woken up by some bullshit that those shitty leaks were confirmed.

Cold blue eyes continued to haunt his nightly dreams. It had been almost a fortnight since Arya had defeated the Night King, but it seemed that his mark was everlasting. His image was seemingly inevitable, even in death.

The former King tossed and turned in his furs as the horror of his dreamlike state continued.

It was always the same. Jon would walk through a great hall. Was it…was it King’s Landing? He wasn’t sure. He had never entered a castle so large before. Perhaps Dragonstone could compare, but… it couldn’t. No, Dragonstone lacked the flare and elegance of this throne room. It was a throne room, right? It had to be. Each dream revealed more than the next. Jon would see two wraiths in, what he assumed, heated argument before the taller of the two impaled the other. The taller wraith would wrap his arms in an almost loving embrace before Jon would notice the all too familiar foe sitting mere steps ahead. Ever since he laid eyes on that cold menacing figure, Jon would ignore the wraiths in front of him.

The Night King seemed to sit on the air before he would eventually rise from his seat and make his way towards Jon. In every dream, the Night King would walk slowly, stop by the two wraiths and tilt his head as he gazed down upon them. Then, he would continue his slow walk towards Jon and stand in front of him. During all this, Jon could not move. Even when the champion of death stared at him menacingly with his hate filled gaze, Jon could not move. Finally, the Night King would reach out with a hand and that was it. Jon would wake before the King ever made contact with his skin. More details would show with each passing dream, but they were details that were inconsequential to Jon. In the end, the actions would remain the same. The two wraiths would mimic their movements until the King walked towards Jon. Always the same. Until today.

Jon did not know how long it took for him to drift off into slumber. Knowing what awaited him each night caused him to toss and turn until his exhaustion overpowered his fear. It could have been minutes or hours. But when sleep finally did overtake him, it started the same as before. He was teleported to the all too familiar entrance and walked through the doors with a heavy sigh. The ornate ceiling, the painted flooring and the pillars were all too familiar by now. Jon walked forward and, only then, noticed the stillness in the atmosphere.

Jon paused in his steps as he took in the scene ahead of him. What was once so familiar was now almost foreign. The wraiths were in their original starting position as all the times before, but only stood still and apart from one another. Not once did the taller wraith lunge forward to impale the smaller as it had done before. The smaller also made no indication to move forward to be impaled. Both wraiths were absolutely and utterly still.

Jon slowly moved forward and paused when he was only mere feet away from the two shadow like figures. He stifled any sound that wanted to leave his throat as he stared at the all too familiar figure sitting down in his natural-like position. There was no inconsistency with his position as he now no longer sat upon air. A throne made of iron and steel swords was now his space. It must have been the fabled chair that so many sought after. How peculiar, that an object so ugly and horrifying could be the cause of so much bloodshed. The Iron Throne.

That meant that the setting of Jon’s dream…no, nightmare…must have been the Red Keep in King’s Landing. Jon could see it now. A house fit for royalty. All the power one could wield if they simply sat that very chair. All the scheming. The controlling of people’s lives. Jon hated it. He wanted nothing more than to leave. But his body wouldn’t let him. He could not turn in his place. He could only move forward. So, he did. And what a horrifying sight it was.

The wraiths were merely shadows with no particular visage. But he didn’t need any of it. Jon felt bile rise in his throat. Was it possible to feel such a thing in a dream? Because…how many times had Jon ogled such a beautiful frame? How many times had he held her? He knew who the smaller wraith was. And he knew who the bigger was as well. The shadowed sword was all too familiar in its shape and length. The pommel, even without coloring, distinguishable. It was him. It was him and the woman who held his soul and heart. Daenerys.

Jon felt the strength leave him, only the dream like forces keeping him upright.

It couldn’t be. How could he? It wasn’t… It wasn’t true. She was dead. Murdered. She was killed… Killed? Killed.

By him.

Suddenly, the air became colder and Jon turned his sorrowed attention to the King of the Night and the dead. The pale skinned demon rose from the iron chair as he cocked his head toward the side. However, he never looked at Jon. He only looked at the wraiths with the same disgust he had given Jon the first time they had laid eyes upon one another at Hardhome. He walked down the steps and towards the wraith of Daenerys, reaching for the blade of ice at his back.

Jon felt his eyes widen as he suddenly found the strength to dart forward.

But it never happened. The forces in his dream would not let him. They held him back. And when Jon clawed at the invisible threads that bound him, he realized he did not have his sword. Panicked and frantic grey eyes, filled with desperation, looked at the silhouette of the Night King approach his lover, closer and closer.

“Stop!” He yelled.

The Night King was now behind her. His entire figure was darkened, but his eyes glowed blue. He positioned the tip of his sword at his lovers back.

“Please!” He screamed. He thrashed and thrashed but the threads only bound him tighter. “Don’t do this! Please! Stop”

The Night King thrusted forward with his blade, it piercing through his lover’s back and out her stomach.

“NO! NO! NO!”

He repeated his yell countless times. All Jon knew was that his throat began to grow hoarse and dampness flowed down his cheeks.

Though the sight was covered by darkness, the Night King’s eyes glowed menacingly and with anger as he glared at the wound he made in Daenerys’ wraith. However, that was the extent of his emotion as he flung her to the side and off his blade. He did not spare her form another glance, instead only opted to move towards the wraith of Jon.

“I’ll kill you!” Jon croaked. “I swear it. By the Old Gods. I’LL KILL YOU!”

The Night King paused in his step, a half body length away from his target. With an eerie slowness, the Night King turned his head toward Jon and tilted it. The shadows continued to cover his form, but the glow of his eyes must have played an illusion in Jon’s mind as he thought he saw the demon smirk.

And without warning, the Night King plunged his sword in the taller wraith’s heart. Jon’s wraith slumped on the spot and hung limply on the blade. The Night King swayed his head from side to side and the air crackled around him. It sounded like ice grinding against ice. The crackle and screeches filling the throne room. Was the Night King laughing?

The Night King angled his blade at a lower position, and Jon’s wraith simply slid on the icy metal and onto the floor. Finally, the Night King’s figure was lit as he stepped near Jon. The Undead King walked until he was a nose length away from Jon.

If he so wished, then Jon could make out every haunting detail on the face of his enemy. But Jon never took his hate filled glare away from Night King’s mirrored one.

The Night King reached forward with an icy hand and Jon waited with boiling anger.

He was no longer afraid. Not like any of his dreams before. He dared the demon to touch him with his fire filled gaze.

The icy hand was inches from his throat when Jon suddenly jolted with a start.

The temperature was cool but his forehead was slicked with sweat. He panted and heaved as he felt a slight sting in his eyes. A curious hand went up to his cheeks to confirm the tears that rolled down them during his sleep.

Jon wondered if anybody had heard him as he stared at the door of his chambers, waiting for anybody to come barging in and asking him if he was alright.

No one ever came.

He was in no mood to fall back onto his bed and back into sleep. No, he was in mood for anything other than anger. He quickly shot up from the furs and made to put on his boots with haste. He was still in his night clothes and merely reached for his cloak as protection from the elements.

It seemed that with the Great War won and Cersei far away at the capitol, there was no need for guards to guard his chambers or roam the halls. And while Jon was sure that Daenerys had two unsullied posted at her door, no further guards sentried the main hall or the doors leading out into the courtyard.

Nobody stopped him as he walked briskly towards the heart tree in the middle of the Godswood.

And when he reached the spot where his sister had claimed to have slain the Night King, Jon fell to his knees in anger. He punched the snow filled spot with rage and hate.

“Why won’t you stay dead? You’re dead! I saw it! I saw your dragon fall! I saw your armies crumble! I saw the shards of ice littering the floor! Why won’t you leave me alone?!”

He panted as his punches slowed down and weakened. However, he didn’t stop his assault until he felt the pain swelling in his fist and the forming of bruises on his skin. The Godswood was quiet and serene. Only Jon’s ragged breaths filled the nighttime air.

“Because he isn’t gone” he heard a quiet a monotonous voice say.

He turned his head to the source of the voice and found his chair bound brother hidden amongst the shadows of the trees.

“Not really” Bran said.

Jon ragged breaths began to slow down as the blood pounding in his ears cooled.

“Bran. How long have you been there?”

His brother merely sat in his chair as he stared back at him through voided dark eyes. Was he his brother? Even without the knowledge of his parentage, was Bran still there?

“Bran” Jon tried again. “What are you doing out here?”

Bran gave a small but emotionless smile.

“Same as you, I suppose” Bran responded.

“Bran. What…what do you mean? What do you mean the Night King isn’t gone? Arya destroyed him. You saw it!”

His voice was desperate and crazed, but he knew that Bran would never lie to him.

“No” Bran responded, “she merely only delayed the inevitable.”

Jon felt his anger evaporate and his body grow cold.

“The inevitable?” Jon asked tentatively.

Bran merely nodded his response.

“Then…then it was all for nothing?!” Jon cried. “All what we went through, he’s going to come back and kill us all? Then why fight?! Everything we fought for. What did it mean if it’s all meaningless? He’s going to win anyways!”

Bran stared at him.

“…Perhaps” he said.

“Perhaps?” Jon choked out. “Bran! Please!” Jon crawled over to him. “I need to know what you mean. Please, Bran.”

Bran tilted his head and looked over Jon’s shoulder and to the heart tree.

“Arya did not strike true. She did not strike the Night King’s source of life. His heart.”

Bran turned to him with a saddened smile.

“Though, it was never her destiny to begin with.”

Bran’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and turned a silvery and milky shade of white. He spoke to Jon with a hoarse voice with deepened tones.

“ _The Prince that was Promised shall be born of the line of Aerys and Rhaella. The champion of the light will face the harbinger of ice and the two shall duel until the coming of the dawn._ ”

Bran’s eyes rolled back to normal and he stared at Jon without a seeming care in the world.

Jon’s breath hitched as he looked at Bran in fear.

“Bran” he said shakily. “What was that?”

“A prophecy” he replied simply.

“A prophecy? Of me?”

Bran shook his head.

“Your time has passed but the prophecy lives and moves forward. But…”

Bran stared ominously into Jon’s grey eyes.

“The balance is threatened. Danger approaches. Woe comes to the world if the champion isn’t saved. I see a throne room covered in ruin and the champion slain before his ascent. Even in destruction, the champion of death manipulates the flow of causality. No barrier stops his reach, even in rebirth. He can reach the flows of the world and down into the south.”

The silence thickened as the two men touched by destiny stared at one another.

“You can see the future?” Jon asked. “You’ve seen the danger?”

Bran nodded.

“Aye” Bran said. “I have seen the flow and I have seen its consequences. The ink of the past is dry and the ink of the present is wet, but the ink of the future has yet to touch the paper.”

Jon grabbed Bran’s hand forcefully as he looked at him with a fiery gaze.

“Speak clearly, damn you! Tell me what you mean?”

“She will experience a great loss, her allies will only add up to her throes. A false friend in her camp and destiny set of woe.”

“She?” Jon trailed off, though he suspected the person in question.

“Your soul. Your heart. The woman of your life.”

Jon’s eyes widened. _Daenerys_.

“He manipulates the flow” Bran continued “and madness within her stirs. Her madness will kill the champion, and with the champion the world.”

Jon shook his head violently.

“Daenerys isn’t her father. She’s different” Jon spat at him.

“You do not know what she will experience. What the world has in store. _He_ is afraid of the champion. He knows this one will be great. He will try to preserve his own existence and target his bane.”

“He’s afraid? Wait…you’ve seen him?” Jon asked with a whisper.

And then Jon knew that his doubts were unfound. Bran was his brother. Closer than anyone he knew. They had both seen the horrors of the Night King and the destruction that he wrought. They had both felt that cold stare upon them and perhaps had even known his death like touch. Both in their dream like statuses. Bran was the one to warn Jon about the dead moving north of Eastwatch. Even Sansa had her doubts. Arya had her reservations about the threat as well. But Bran had always known. Just as Jon had.

There was no one that Jon could trust more.

“Even at his weakest, his abilities prevail strong. I must use this time wisely and be prepared for his return.”

Bran gave Jon a forlorn smile and a hint of emotion touched his eyes.

“Save your blood, Jon Snow. Save your blood no matter from which vein it flows. The dead still has its champion and the living must bear theirs.”

Snow began to fall into the silence, dusting the two brothers as they shared a sacred bond for the night.

And as the brothers understood to accept their role, a warrior queen dreamed of a babe with silver hair and grey eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea popped up as a response to the Night King and White Walker's lackluster end to their story and in response to those horrible leaks of "Jon kills Dany". I hate those leaks with a passion and wholeheartedly believe that they are either "fake" scenes that were filmed or Bran's visions in a Twilight-esque ending. 
> 
> I'm hoping for some Jonerys fluff in episode 4, and episode 4 will very much determine and lay out the probability of the leaks currently circulating. If the events of episode 4 are not promising, then please enjoy this story as a way to cope with such horror. I know I coped when writing this.


End file.
